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Posted By Opening the Heart

I love sparkle and sometimes I love symmetry. Symmetry can annoy me in its tendency toward predictable order.  I am messier than that.  I like to be surprised by the unevenness of things.  Haircuts that have long parts and short parts.  Lawns that are mowed by sensitive people who can't bear to plow down patches of buttercups and Indian paint brushes.  You can tell a great deal about a person by what they leave standing.

I like wacky, unpredictable evidence of tenderness. Not the big, showy, center staged acts of kindness, but the kid sister to those actions.  People who move through the world brave enough to not be all put together.  Somehow, I think of those folks as having more surface area to travel in relationship.

In drawing class last week my teacher talked about creating art and putting it away. "You don't want it to become too precious," he warned with a contemplative mouth and somewhat serious brow. "Don't want to attach to it in a way that you care too much what happens to your creation."  He had us draw huge, uninhibited circles.  "Let it go off the page," he instigated.

My shoulders began to play, and my mouth softened.  I licked my lips like I used to as a small kid when I was concentrating.  I traded my stubby black rectangular piece of charcoal for a pointy one in burnt sienna.  I stopped thinking about the moment when we would hold our pictures up for viewing.  My circles went crazy, intersecting and dissecting, interrupting and neighboring one another.  Something in my heart felt round and urgent and, perhaps, untangled.  I felt the places in relationship where I want to go off the page.  I can't tell you my exact thoughts, but the sky was coming into my body through the warm portals of my nostrils and I wanted to cry.  I could feel the learned places of obedience still residing in my internal organs, some in my pancreas and some in the warm cavern beneath my ribs.  My spine went mad as I wrote charcoal loops on the huge art table all covered with newsprint.

On break, I wiped my chalky hands on my favorite gray pants.  I drank Swiss Miss with miniature marshmallows and felt honest.  When I went to the bathroom I glanced at myself in the mirror and didn't smile.  I don't want to live precious, draw precious, write precious.  I want the risky, reckless, real thing.


Continued here

 

 

Come meet and work with Donna at The Opening the Heart Workshop™ at Kripalu Institute, Stockbridge MA March 19 - 21 2010

 

 
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